Robert Fulghum

Robert Fulghum

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Fifteen years ago, Robert Fulghum published a simple credo—a credo that became the phenomenal #1 New York Times bestseller All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. Now, seven million copies later, Fulghum returns to the book that was embraced around the world. He has written a new preface and twenty-five essays, which add even more potency to a common, though no less relevant, piece of wisdom: that the most basic aspects of life bear its most important opportunities.

Here Fulghum engages us with musings on life, death, love, pain, joy, sorrow, and the best chicken-fried steak in the continental U.S.A. The little seed in the Styrofoam cup offers a reminder about our own mortality and the delicate nature of life . . . a spider who catches (and loses) a full-grown woman in its web one fine morning teaches us about surviving catastrophe . . . the love story of Jean-Francois Pilatre and his hot air balloon reminds us to be brave and unafraid to “fly” . . . life lessons hidden in the laundry pile . . . magical qualities found in a box of crayons . . . hide-and-seek vs. sardines—and how these games relate to the nature of God. All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten is brimming with the very stuff of life and the significance found in the smallest details.

In the years that have passed since the first publication of this book that touched so many with its simple, profound wisdom, Robert Fulghum has had some time to ponder, to reevaluate, and to reconsider. And here are those fresh thoughts on classic topics, right alongside the wonderful new essays.

Perhaps in today’s chaotic, more challenging world, these essays on life will resonate even deeper—as readers discover how universal insights can be found in ordinary events....

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THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

I once began a list of the contradictory notions I hold:

Look before you leap.

He who hesitates is lost.

Two heads are better than one.

If you want something done right, do it yourself.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Better safe than sorry.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

You can't tell a book by its cover.

Clothes make the man.

Many hands make light work.

Too many cooks spoil the broth.

You can't teach an old dog new tricks.

It's never too late to learn.

Never sweat the small stuff.

God is in the details.

And so on. The list goes on forever. Once I got so caught up in this kind of thinking that I wore two buttons on my smock when I was teaching art. One said, "Trust me, I'm a teacher." The other replied, "Question Authority."

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Fulghum

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“My house in Seattle is across the street from an elementary school.  A high fence blocks my view, but I’m close enough to overhear conversations.  One morning…I heard a car door opened, then slammed shut…a woman’s voice came blasting over the fence:  “BILLY…WHAT…ON…EARTH…HAVE…YOU…DONE?”…My own mother asked me the same question.  Often.  And I, in my turn asked my own children, who, no doubt have followed the same line of inquiry with their kids…”

Robert Fulghum’s new book begins with a question we’ve all asked ourselves: “What on Earth have I done?”  As Fulghum finds out, the answer is never easy and, almost always, surprising.  For the last couple of years, Fulghum has been traveling the world - from Seattle to the Moab Desert to Crete - looking for a few fellow travelers interested in thinking along with him as he delights in the unexpected: trick-or-treating with your grandchildren dressed like a large rabbit, pots of daffodils blooming in mid-November, a view of the earth from outer space, the mysterious night sounds of the desert, every man's trip to a department store to buy socks, the raucous all-night long feast that is Easter in Greece, the trials and tribulations of plumbing problems and the friendship one can strike up with someone who doesn't share the same language. What on Earth Have I Done? is an armchair tour of everyday life as seen by Robert Fulghum, one of America’s great essayists, a man who has two feet planted firmly on the earth, one eye on the heavens and, at times, a tongue planted firmly in his cheek. Fulghum writes to his fellow travelers, with a sometimes light heart, about the deep and vexing mysteries of being alive and says, “This is my way of bringing the small boat of my life within speaking distance of yours.  Hello…” 

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